In May, we asked a small group of residents to share their coming out stories. The idea is that through their stories, they could inspire others and offer comfort to those who for whatever reason are not in a place where they can come out.
These stories are part of the first art exhibition at the Pride at Home sim and can be viewed in-world for the duration of Pride month.
A charismatic charmer with a love for flowers and space. An approach to living through colors, and feelings as they express their sentimental side hidden by their quiet exterior.
I’ve kind of always known I was gay. I remember having a crush on Batman from the cartoons in the early-mid 90’s. So even around 7/8 years old. I always knew I wasn’t like everyone else around me in grade school. I grew up in a household, where my parents weren’t religious. But, my family around me were religious. And living/growing up in the south, being open about that stuff..especially in the 90s and early 2000’s was like a big no no.
I was in high-school when I started to realize more signs definitely of me being gay . And I had a best friend who was also gay. And I recall him knowing about me being gay. And we confided in each other about that. His parents also weren’t aware of him being gay, either. Well, I remember him coming to visit me after school. My parents kind of always allowed my friends to hang at my house and they were always treated by my parents like their own kids.
But, to cut the story short... my best friend of that time, happened to show my mom stuff I was sending a guy on MySpace at the time. MySpace was a thing during this time incase any of you guys are asking what is MySpace? Well, it was nothing bad or dirty. But, recalling I think it was just like simple compliments to a guy via comments on this dudes profile. Well, mind you..my friend showed my mom this without even telling me he was gonna do that and I had no awareness of it until hours later.
Now, I don’t know if any of you get sick to your stomach when confrontation happens. Despite me finding confrontation therapeutic sometimes.. in this situation? It made me sick. I remember my mom coming to my room, and sitting down with me over it. She had a look on her I’ll never forget. Almost a look of confusion, and concerns. After all, I get it. We didn’t live in a very open minded place. Being open here was kind of putting a target on your back for the rest of your life.
We had a talk. A long one. I remember sort of us discussing how long I’ve known? Why was I keeping it a secret? Am I sure of this? Things like that. She told me she wasn’t angry. But, she had some concerns and that she loved me. Though, hearing that and knowing she was okay with it. Didn’t help put my mind at ease. I just had to get away from my house for a little bit. So, I left that evening and just went for a long walk through the mountains to clear my head.
So many thoughts going through my head on how I couldn’t believe someone in my life outside of my best friend knew. Of course, I know you’re thinking.. a best friend or any friend for that matter wouldn’t out your business like that. You’d be also 100% correct. But, we’ve all fell into traps of toxic friendships and I was also a teenager. So forgive my naiveness.
Well, anyway..little by little, more of my family found out about me being gay. Some were okay with it. Some considered it a sin. Some thought I was just pretending (there’s a story here. But, I’ll save it for another time). But, in truth? I wasn’t concerned about people accepting or even not accepting me being gay. I know in the long run of things..I had it lucky. I didn’t get kicked out, or shunned by my family. So everyday I am grateful for that. But, I do know having the opportunity to be myself (even if it was robbed of me initially) allowed me to grow up being mentally okay with that aspect of my life.
And if you’re wondering? Yes. I’m no longer friends with that best friend from High School. I have no ill towards them. I think it would have been too easy to out them myself. And frankly? It wouldn’t have been fair to them even despite them doing the same to me. Now in my 30s, I look back at that time a lot differently. Young me would have definitely been more revengeful. But, now, I’m content with my life and how things turned out. I’m happy my coming out experience left me a bit unscathed because instead of being hated, I was embraced.
At the end of the day..I think that’s all any of us really want.
Dash is a transgender man who joined Second Life 13 years ago. He has always loved being creative and is always in awe of the creativity that goes inside Second Life. Last year, Dash opened a store named Aardvark and creates fun, unique mesh items in hopes of bringing a smile or laugh to someone’s face.
I want to preface; you can come out as many times as you wish. The doors are not numbered, and there aren’t any wrong doors. I say this because finding yourself is a lifelong journey. My self-discovery explored both my sexuality and my gender identity. I’ve had to “come out” multiple times as bisexual, pansexual, genderfluid, and, lastly, a transgender man. I also think that transgender individuals have a unique experience of having to come out over and over again. None of these “coming outs” were wrong, nor did they have to be in that particular order. I want to share that we are not stagnant. We’re all allowed to grow and change.
I “first” came out when I was a young teenager. I have a small real-life family: my dad and little sister. I can’t remember my age, but I wasn’t in high school yet, so I must’ve been 13 or 14. I told my dad that I was bisexual and I liked girls. I had a crush on a girl on the middle school swim team. (She didn’t know I existed, but I very much knew she did). My dad didn’t believe me. I wasn’t in a relationship; he’d never seen me in one. My sister, a year younger than me, became afraid of me.
We didn’t talk about it again until I was about 19 and in my first serious relationship with a then female. This person later became my wife and now my ex-husband. In that relationship, I helped them in their transition as a transgender male, and in my growth, my understanding of my sexuality was a lot wider. It also helped with my sense of gender identity as I had joked with them I wished we were both gay men. I came out to my family how my wife was now going to be my husband. It wasn’t a lengthy discussion. I tend to tell things as they are.
Several years ago, I was going downhill fast. I wasn’t taking care of myself at all, and I was often calling off work. I was seeking solace in all the wrong places. I was ignoring red flags because I also was a red flag. I knew I couldn’t stay this way long, so I attempted to get help. I went to a doctor who prescribed me medication to help alleviate my depression and give me a kickstart in the other direction.
I can’t remember how many appointments there were, but after a fair amount, she said she couldn’t prescribe me anything else. She recommended that I check myself into a critical mental health center. Honestly, that’s when I realized there was more to this. I’m not going to lie and say I was thrilled to go. I would miss more work and take unpaid time off, and my health insurance wasn’t the best. I had no idea how I would afford or pay for it. But I knew, deep in my heart, without it, I was on a track I didn’t know if I could come back from.
The doctor gave me a pamphlet, and I called and committed myself. I started the following week.
It was a 10 day, half day outpatient facility program. It was intensive group therapy and single therapy. People with other varying mental illnesses or situations were there also. This isn’t a story where I stood before the class and came out to everyone. No. I participated but kept to myself. I took it all in. There was a lot to take in.
I realized I had internalized so many things, pretending and forcing myself to be someone I wasn’t—a woman. I had put other people’s hopes and dreams into me and aspired to be a successful woman. I wanted to have a successful career. I wanted to be the person that had that “beautiful smile” in my photos. I wanted people to be proud of me. I didn’t want to be a failure. From the outside, it may have even appeared that I achieved this.
My depression stemmed from this internal struggle about who I was and what everyone else was telling me who I was. I would look back and see pictures of myself happy, and I wanted to be that girl again. I wanted to be that person again. She seemed so happy.
Therapy forced those thoughts like a head-on collision. I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but then there was a slow clarity. See, coming out doesn’t need to be rainbows and confetti. It can be in the quiet, in the middle of the night. It can be a quiet whisper, even from your own voice, telling you it’s ok to be who you are. And it was just that. I knew I was a man. I knew this unhappiness stemmed from what I thought I needed to be and who I should be.
At the end of the 10 days of the program, I was evaluated by a therapist, a psychologist, and a psychiatrist. I can’t exactly remember the question, but I remember my answer, and it was the first time I had said it out loud.
“I’m not a tomboy. I’m a man.”
At that moment, I felt both afraid and liberated. Honestly, it was one of the happiest moments I’ve had. Because the most important person that I came out to accepted me for who I am.
And that was…me.
Divos Titanium is a pumpkin spice enthusiast who happens to have a joy for all things home & garden, photography and video. A long-time resident of Second Life, Divos has been a blogger for the Boystown Closet since 2010 and serves as Blogger Manager for two of SL’s finest home & garden stores: Apple Fall and Dust Bunny.
I always knew I was different. I think being gay you always do. I can remember being really little and knowing I was not exactly the same. As I grew into a young man I was able to pinpoint I was attracted to men and others were not. I recall asking myself why and wishing there was a button to push to make me “normal.” I recoiled and hid myself and my identity for years.
Growing up in a very conservative south made being gay something you did not brandish or even talk about. Looking back it was such a hard time, even though I had a great childhood. Another issue that many don’t know about me is that I also have a brother who is gay. Both of us are my mom’s only children, and I can remember her telling me of her dreams of having a big family and being close to my future wife. It was agony to know not only was I different, but also my being different would destroy her life dreams: the dreams of someone who is amazing to me and my biggest fan.
When I was in college, my identity became something that was really hard to suppress. I met a guy and we started dating, and while I think my friends knew what was going on, I still hid who I was. I remember finally being ready to tell my friends, and I was terrified thinking “what if they do not like me anymore?”. I started with my roommate one night while we were out drinking. We were sitting in the back of a Ford Explorer with the hatch lifted up, and he smiled and gave me the biggest hug. He told me that he knew and we would always be friends. We still are to this day. It gave me the courage to tell my best friend, and she followed suit in almost the same way, telling me should would always love me. I shared with many people, with all of them being so supportive. Sure, there were some who were not the same and I could tell took issue. But not the ones that really mattered. It felt like such a weight was off my shoulders. I could finally say the guy on TV was cute too!
However, the one person I held back on telling was my mom. It was heart-wrenching to think I would disappoint her, especially after my brave brother told her that he was gay. She took it so well from him, but it was still a struggle. I waited years and years and years because I did not want to disappoint the one person that I loved the most. One day we were eating ice cream out by the lake just my mom and me, and she told me that I could always be myself around her, and she knew what weight I was carrying. I never said a word, but I remember crying harder that day hugging her than I ever had before. Since that time, she has never said anything more about a wife or girlfriend, and now mentions cute guys to me. Loving her is such an honor because she has been such an inspiration and caring person. And coming out to be my authentic self has become less about others and more about me. I like who I am. I want people to know me - all sides and interests. I’m gay. And now, if there was a button to push to be “normal”, I’m finally at a place in my life where I would never want to push it.
Dresden Couerblanc is a long-time resident of Second Life. Working as a Technology Sales Leader in RL, he enjoys SL as a way to tap into his creative side through modeling, use his first-life skills in sales and marketing, and to connect with people from all over the globe, across all walks of life.
I didn’t come out of the closet. Instead, I was dragged out by my mother!
It was the spring after I turned 18. My mother and I had spent the day shopping. This was something that we enjoyed doing. In fact, this was an activity that we did quite often growing up. I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I agree (insert chuckle here). After a long day of hitting the sales at our local mall, we drove home. Mom usually parked in our driveway, but this time, she stopped in front of the house and turned off the engine. She turned to me and asked the question that struck fear into my heart. She asked, ”Are you gay?” I didn’t answer right away. I was completely blind-sided and felt that moment to be quite surreal. After a few heart-pounding minutes, I quietly uttered, ”Yes.” There a lot of words and a lot of years that came after that moment. That night and for a long while afterwards, I experienced a whirlwind of feelings - pain, self-doubt, isolation, betrayal, and confusion. My mother and I were very close growing up, but she didn’t take my admission well at all. She yelled, said cruel things, followed by weeks of distancing herself from me. Thankfully, my step-father was there which helped to create some semblance of connection to our little family. I had planned on telling by father in my own way, but I didn’t get that chance. My mother told him the news. I called him after I learned of this and he, too, cried. But, it was different. Surprisingly different. The man who was emotionally absent from my life was now emotionally present. I don’t remember exactly all that he said, but I do remember that he told me it didn’t really matter to him because I was still his son.
After all that had transpired at home, I couldn’t live another day in that house. Looking back, it was an incredibly difficult time. I was forced out of the closet while having to contend with finding my place in the world, with being on my own. So, I moved out of town for 3 months. Towards the end of that time, my mother asked me to move back home. It was a blessing as we got everything out on the table. She had bad experiences with a gay male co-worker previously and those memories had weighed on her mind. She also couldn’t stand the thought of anyone looking down on me for being gay. Thankfully, my grandmother helped her to see beyond all of that. She explained that I was still ”the same good kid” that I had always been. This was just something else they knew about me.
12 years later, I entered into my second long-term relationship. My ex-partner was loved by all of my family and yes, that included my mother. My parents visited us regularly and we visited them. She loved him as if he were her own child. Well, just about anyway. While my relationship ended acrimoniously after 11 years together, I still look back fondly on it. I remember the nights when we enjoyed home-cooked meals together and the banter that came with them. I reminisce about the fishing trips, family events, and precious moments we all shared. Despite the immense suffering that ensured, I am somehow thankful that my mother asked me that life-altering questions so many years ago. If she had not done so, who knows what my life would be like? Who knows who I would have become?
Love wasn’t the only thing I gained from having come out. I also found my true self and a deep well of confidence. I no longer doubted whether or not this was who I was meant to be. I no longer wondered if I was still a good person or otherwise. On the other side of my pain was an incredible sense of enlightenment. While I wouldn’t want to repeat how my coming out happened, I don’t look back on it with a negative lens. Learning about who I really am in mind, body, and soul has been a fantastically precious gift for which I will always be grateful and never take for granted.
She was born and raised in the bustling city of New York and is known for her quirky personality and love of Korean dramas. As a self-proclaimed lovergirl, she enjoys spending her free time exploring the city and indulging in her guilty pleasure of binge-watching her favorite shows.
My coming out story started when I was just three years old. I remember hiding under my mom’s bed while she watched Dolly Parton on TV. I felt like I was in a safe and comfortable place, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was different about me.
Fast forward five years later, when my sister bought me a PFLAG book at the age of eight. I remember skimming through it, feeling overwhelmed by the stories of other people coming out. I denied my own gayness at the time, convincing myself that I was simply too young to know for sure.
At thirteen, I started dating a senior basketball player. One day, he told me that he thought I might be gay. I laughed it off, but the seed of doubt had been planted. Later that week, I had a dream about unicorns, kissing Aaliyah and Angelina Jolie while the song ”I’m Coming Out” by Diana Ross played in the background. I woke up with a jolt, realizing that I was, in fact, gay.
A week after my dream, I mustered up the courage to tell my mom. She asked me if I was the “skirt or the pants” in the relationship, as she washed the same plate over and over again. But my dad had a quick-witted response, saying at least they knew I wouldn’t get pregnant. Finally, I admitted that I was both the pants and the skirt.
My sister walked into the kitchen at that moment and exclaimed, “”I knew it!”” Meanwhile, my brother asked me if I ever found any of his girlfriends attractive. It took ten years for my mom to fully accept my sexuality, but today she stands by my side as I continue to celebrate and embrace my identity.
Even now, years later, I occasionally dream about Dolly, Aaliyah, and Angelina, who frequently show me their boobs and give me kisses. It’s a comforting reminder that, no matter what obstacles I face, I am loved and accepted for who I am.
Hayden is 24 years old from Portugal. His favorite hobbies include gaming, listening to music and nerding out to TV shows! His *not so hidden* talent is making memes out of anything and he’s very proud of that.
My coming out story isn’t super long, I wasn’t sure if it was worth including but if there’s a chance that it some good comes out of it, then I’ll happily share. I was 17 and struggling with the fact I couldn’t be my true self. I used to ran a twitter account based around the things I liked, I kept it private but a girl in my class found it and in my bio, I stated I was gay, I felt like I could be myself online, because no one knew me and no one around me could ”judge” me.
I had never suspected that anyone I knew would ever find that account, to this day, I’m not exactly sure how she did it. I’m sure you can guess where this is heading. So yes, after finding that account, instead of keeping it to herself or talking to me privately about it, she decided to share that fact about me with everyone that would listen. For the most part, no one really cared, there were some stares and some giggles, but they quickly moved on. I was surprised because I know not everyone has it easy like that. My closest friends didn’t care and I’m sure deep down, they already knew and they respected me enough to let me take my time.
After this happened, I wanted my family to know from me, but I was too scared, so I wrote my mom a long text message... Looking back I know I could have talked face to face with my mom but again, the fear was stronger. I don’t think my mom was that surprised, she didn’t take it 100% well the first few days, mostly because she was worried for me and worried about me being in danger because not everyone in the world is so accepting. She did ask the typical ”Are you sure” questions and wondered if it was ”just a phase” - my mom actually talked to my dad about it too, so I thankfully didn’t have to come out multiple times. This awkward period didn’t last long, and nowadays it’s not even an issue and they see it as a part of me like anything else.
I’ve never felt the need to tell everyone that I know that I’m gay, I’m not hiding it, if someone asks about a girlfriend I’ll simply tell them I’m gay, like it’s no big deal, because it’s not and it shouldn’t be. I’ve learned that if someone judges you for being you, they have no place in your life and that has made things a bit easier for me.
JeVon Nova-Parnes, along with his husband Exeter, is the owner of fête: The Restaurant Experience. JeVon is an Entrepreneur mentally, while balancing being a father and family man at heart. He is motivated by creativity and artistic expression.
Admitting that when I was a teenager, the representation that we see today did not exist. At times, I felt I was the only one in the entire world like me. Odd, for someone that grew up in NYC to feel like that, right? I can only speak for myself when I say, I was born this way! I knew I was gay before I knew there was a word for it. I can remember at the age of 5, in kindergarten and having a crush on a little boy in my class. Who ironically had a twin sister, who my Dad joked I would grow up and marry. It wasn’t until High School that my Aunt introduced me to her coworker. He was a nurse at the hospital she worked at. I was 15 yrs old and he was 7 yrs older than I was. We became friends and eventually he titled himself as my Aunt too. He took me under his wing and showed me the beauty in Art and Culture. Museums, Clothes shopping and learning about trends and style. Broadway plays and Brunches were always on our list of things to do. Early on we never spoke about our sexual preferences, but it was over one of those brunches where he gave me the best advise anyone could have ever given me. Out of nowhere he said “Honey, we don’t have to talk about it. You may not even understand it yourself, yet. I just want to tell you this. When they ask, realize that they already know. That’s why they are asking. They aren’t asking because they aren’t sure. They are asking because they are ready to hear the answer.” His words were that vague and cryptic at this point, but he continued. “You know what I’m talking about right?” He asked. I had to agree at this point. All I could do was nod my head. My mouth full with the bite I had been working on, but I couldn’t even bring myself to chew it. “The last thing you want to do is lie about it and then later have to retract that lie. You don’t want to be Gay and a liar. You break peoples trust in you when you lie about it.” Right there is when I gulped the food I had only half chewed. This “Auntie” let me know, they knew. He had even said the word. The conversation did not effect our friendship. We hung out whenever I was able to. If I am honest, I never thought about it again. I was private. I was still in High School and not dating anyone.
It was almost two years later, weeks before my High School graduation. A night that still replays in my mind. I was in the kitchen, helping my Mom prepare dinner. I was chopping vegetables for a salad. She was next to me in front of the stove, stirring delicious food in pots and pans. We had our pleasantries about our day. My excitement to graduate High School. “Can I ask you something?” she inquired. “Sure! What’s up?” I replied, while chopping away. I was expecting the usual question of whether I was dating someone or who I was taking to prom, as I hadn’t asked anyone yet. Then it happened. “Are you Gay?” She asked. A clear question. Three words that had so much force, my body jerked as if I had been punched. My vision went white, as if I was about to pass out. Then I saw the red, and it wasn’t from the tomato. “Oh my God! What did you do?” Her voice brought me back to my senses. I realized I had cut myself. A clean cut on my left pointer finger. I held my finger with my other hand. Tight to stop the bleeding and I saw her from the corner of my eye grab a rag and try to reach for me. I remember retracting my hand and bring it to my chest. Not wanting to be touched by her. I looked up at her and my vision of her began to blur as my eyes started to water. A thick tear ran down my face. Was I crying because I’d been cut or was I crying because I now standing in what was a pivotal moment. Time stood still long enough to hear “Auntie’s” voice... “they are asking because they are ready to hear the answer.” This was it. I either jumped or regret not jumping. “Yes.” I blurted before I could chicken out. Just as quickly as my response, I turned and fast paced it out the kitchen. Down the hall, which felt longer than it really was and into my room. I slammed the door behind me. I pressed my back to the door, protecting myself with the door as visions of my mom slamming through it like a bull at any moment came to my mind. Breathing hard. Heart racing in my ears. Blood streaming through my fingers, just as quickly as the tears were streaming down my face. What now? I asked myself. I looked around at my things. My belongings. I knew other friends that had been kicked out of their homes after they came out, and so I silently said a
good bye to all of my things. I threw my head back and starred at the ceiling. Through it actually. God, what have I done? I asked any Deity that would listen to me. A soft timid knock on the door brought me back. I knew it was her. I held my breath and stifled my crying, as if not making a noise would convince her I wasn’t in the room. “Please let me in.”
I heard her voice. Soft. Loving. It was my Mom. I opened the door and stepped back, allowing her in. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Stepping towards me, I can see her other hand held bandages and ointment. Her eyes didn’t meet mine, but my eyes scanned for her gaze and I can see her cheeks were wet from her own tears. “Let me see.” She asked, again her gaze only on my hand. Not my eyes. I extended my hand and she reached for it. Wiped at it. Examining it. “It’s not deep, but its a cut.” She said, letting go of my hand to uncap the ointment. Why wasn’t she just letting me bleed to death? We exchanged no words as she bandaged me. As she finished, it came to me. “You’ve known.” I said. It wasn’t a question, but a realization. She still hadn’t looked at me. She looked everywhere else, gathering her thoughts, but not up at me. She cleared her throat. “Was it something I did wrong?” She asked. “No.” I responded. “How did you know?” I asked her. She signed. “I have two sons. My youngest one is a serial dater. Has had more girlfriends this year that someone should have their whole life.” She stops and inhales. “He’ll probably grow up to be a womanizer.” She nodded her head, coming to terms before she continued. “My oldest son...” She paused. I braced myself as this was gonna be about me. “My oldest son dresses like he walked out of a magazine. Wears name brands I can’t even pronounce. Has the kindest heart. Hates sports, but loves art and I know none of that really means anything.” Her voice cracked, bringing on an onset of fresh tears between us. “He’s so beautiful. All the girls around here and the ladies at my job turn to putty around him. Yet, he’s never dated any of them or anyone. No girlfriend. Not even a mention of someone he likes.” She still hadn’t looked at me. Seemed as if she was talking to herself or to someone in the room I couldn’t see. “I added it up. I’m not stupid, but there’s one thing I can’t figure out...” She said. My eyes darted around her face. Why hasn’t she looked at me? Look at me, damn it!! I yelled it in my mind, but she had to have heard it because she did. She looked me right in the eye. I could see the hurt in her eyes when she said, “I can’t figure out why my son didn’t trust me enough to know that he could tell me and that I would still love him.”
I gasped for air as if drowning. I took a step towards her as our arms opened and in a flash, held each other in a strong, tight hug. Nothing more needed to be said. The tears just streamed on both our faces. I don’t know how long we stood there, just hugging tight, but it was long enough to wet the shoulders of both our shirts. What followed was a kinship between us, as she got to really know me. As she learned who I really was and asked silly questions like “So, do you guys kiss each other?” Which led to many answers. Like the time over a pint of ice cream and a movie, we sat on her bed the night that I had received my first kiss and I could confirm confidently. “Yes, Mom. We kiss!” I know first hand that not every coming out story ends well. The couch in my living room has been the bed to many of my friends, who’s lives as they knew it ended and yet strangely began when they came out. Letting them know that I accepted. As my “Auntie” had guided me, and still continues in my life today, it was my turn to be their “Auntie”. Even if I was the only person in the world at that moment that did accept them. To help heal them from their war wounds and then see them move on and flourish into whatever came next for them. It can be scary to come out, we must be smart and be safe. Not everyone has the good fortune to have family and friends that accept them. Where we are all fortunate is that we are alive and we all owe it to ourselves to live a life that makes us happy and is authentic.
Nehemi “Emi” is a 26 year old, New-Yorker who just so happens to be a non-binary pansexual individual. In their Second Life, they are able to be their authentic self behind the PC and within the PC. They are the same person you meet in real life as the person you meet in SL, just with a different name and appearance.
To start, I am currently 26 years old and my family background is West Indian, Jamaican and Crucian (U.S. Virgin Island’s St. Croix). West Indians are not that welcoming towards the LGBT community and even now my family particularly is not that welcoming towards me. My life has been a complete mess since birth essentially, I am the only girl in a family full of 5 kids. I was adopted as a late teen and on that side of the family, I have 3 sisters and 1 brother. So growing up, being around guys and girls was always shifted, depending on what age I was and what family I was living with.
In elementary school, I had always been more masculine and my mother had always just said I was a tomboy, however I wasn’t a complete ”tomboy”. I had felt like one of the ”guys” back then and I still played with your typical girly things.. Barbie dolls, dress up games and baby dolls. I just.. was more of a little boy socially. My identity has shifted throughout the years, as well as my sexuality. In elementary, I liked boys exclusively. In 6th and 7th grade, I went to a Catholic school that allowed both boys and girls. My first female crush was on a girl named Patty, Patty D. She had the prettiest red hair and freckles and the most beautiful brown eyes. We became best friends somehow and then even started dating but we broke up cause she cheated on me with a boy.. but that’s a story for a different day! I had a few crushes in this Catholic school, told a friend.. she told a teacher and the teacher tried to pray my gay away in Mass each Monday. This was my first WTF moment of my sexuality being a problem to others.
I went back to public school for 8th grade and found my first boyfriend, it just was not.. it. It wasn’t it. I had never felt so uncomfortable with ”straightness” in my personal life. I broke up with him after it was a love triangle in the 8th grade, kids are messy. I was put off from dating and just liked the idea of liking both boys and girls QUIETLY. My parents had never caught onto my dating life, I wasn’t allowed to date. However high school rolled around in 2011. Lady Gaga was definitely a thing and the gays were coming out of the closet every two seconds. My mom had thought something was up with me when I hanging out after school every day for GSA, she had asked one day what it stood for and I had to tell her it was the Gay Straight Alliance. She didn’t even ask about me, just immediately said I can be friends with them (the LGBT community) but couldn’t be gay because I’d go to hell.
I was 15 when I came out as bisexual to my friends and my best friend’s parents (who later adopted me and became my adoptive parents), everyone was welcoming and had no issues. However my own family was not the same, my biological mother was extremely homophobic and had physically assaulted me. My biological father cut me off and didn’t talk to me for 2 years, as well as his entire family. The only person in my biological family who continued to love me just the same was my maternal grandmother who is from St. Lucia and at the time she was 75, so she was not the usual type of ally. She was the most God-fearing woman and often told me God made me just the way I needed to be. With the support of my grandma and my adoptive family and my friends, life was ”content” for a bit. Still incredibly toxic in the home but when I went to school, I was safe. In my senior year, I was voted as co-president of our GSA and my co-prez were both bisexual, they were more non-binary back then and together we had gave life to our GSA once again. We had a talent show where a few people sang before coming out openly to the school and had even planned a field trip to go see a drag show and another trip for a pride event in the big city near us.
After high school, things were pretty decent. I did my own thing, I was out of the family home and still barely talked to my family. However, I finally discovered who I was at 20, I was nonbinary and pansexual, I had even started going by a gender-neutral nickname of Cece and introduced myself as Cece vs Chantel. I was comfortable in my own skin for once, which has taken a lot, especially after giving birth to my son. In summer of 2022, my biological mother called me one day in June and had asked me ”How do you know you’re gay?” I had explained to her that when I start a romantic relationship, I don’t have any preference of anything. From looks, to size, to gender, to sexuality - when I love someone, I love them for their heart and nature. Not the physical. She sighed and hung up. A week later, a Coach backpack and wallet arrived in the mail for me with a letter that said “”I love you, for who you are. Always.”” It has taken my mother over 10 years to accept me for who I am. The rest of my family will most likely never accept me, and that’s okay. Living my truth, my colorful truth, has been the greatest journey and I cannot wait to see where life takes me.
In life, we will upset people, it is natural. However we cannot put our happiness on hold for another person’s ability to be comfortable. We are made just the way we need to be, live your truth.
Nova has been in Second Life since 2010. In that time, Nova has worn many hats: model, fashion designer, roleplayer, photographer. She spends most of her time on grid nowadays creating poses and performing with TerpsiCorps ArtWerks and taking photos of pretty things she finds along the way.
I realized I was different when I was in high school, but we lived on a military base, and a girl I went on a date with was dating someone else when someone at school found out. Well, then someone told someone else, and her father’s command found out, and her father responded by sending her away. We lived on Okinawa at the time, and he literally sent her back to the United States. So naturally, I was terrified. That story circulated around school, of course, but I was also there with a group of friends the night the proverbial hammer came down, so it wasn’t just hearing some rumor going around. It was the scariest thing ever knowing that someone could look at their kid and go “you have to go live somewhere else because someone who isn’t even a member of this family says this isn’t okay.” We all knew what it meant if we got in trouble on base. Some of us still did - but our parents would hear about it, their command would get involved sometimes, and in this case, it was like nothing I’d ever seen.
She jokingly called it being “voted off the island.”
Growing up, I’d assumed my parents were open-minded enough they wouldn’t care, but this incident scared me enough that I kept my head down until college well into college, when I lived far away and met someone else I ended up crushing on. This person ended up inviting me out to Yellowstone with her and her mother and some friends for the summer, and we really hit it off. But... I didn’t want to be one of those people who had to hide things from my family, so I did what any self-respecting 21-year-old would do. I figured, “hey, we’re hundreds of miles away from my home in North Carolina. At least if this doesn’t go well, I’m here and they’re there.” And they held my hand while I called my mom.
And the conversation was... Well, it was kind of hilarious looking back on it now. Not so much then because I didn’t know how it was going to go. My mom asked me how the trip was going. I told her it was going great. The usual stuff, you know? It snowed in June. Baby bison were orange. Moose are jerks. Tourists were morons. And then, because I thought I was smooth, I slid something in there about how my new boss had been so ~curious about my friends. My mom said, “Well... I noticed a lot of your friends are... not straight.” And I responded. “That’s accurate.” And then there was silence. And then she asked, “Are you.... not straight?” At that point, I kind of just blurted it all out and told her that my friend and I were dating now and that I hoped it would be “okay.” It was then that she realized that I’d been hiding it a while.
I told her I wanted to tell my dad myself. Unfortunately, in her attempt to help, she had called to “warn” him to not be a jerk about it, and that sort of backfired.
He hasn’t spoken to me in about twelve or thirteen years at this point, but I don’t lose sleep about it anymore. My stepdad has been awesome and most of my family has been very accepting and although me and the person I was with when I came out are not together anymore, we are still best friends to this day.
Sarulien (they/them) is a genderfluid, polyamorous cultural anthropologist, artist, and activist in their first life. In their Second Life, they are also an artist, primarily working with photography and interior design.
It took me a long time to feel comfortable leaving my assigned gender behind to become a new, more authentic version of myself. I’d always known, since I was very little, that being “a girl” wasn’t for me - in truth I felt far bigger than any one gender could encapsulate. But embracing it? Ha! Right.
I felt like being feminine constantly was something I was playing at, like an actor in an improv role they didn’t know they’d been selected for. So, instead, I wandered around aimlessly with this growing pit of dread in my stomach that maybe I just wasn’t good at being feminine - until the few moments I was.
I started exploring here and there, learning more about myself. It took quarantine lockdown to give me enough uninterrupted time with myself to really start to pick apart my concept of who I was, what I wanted - and a lot of missteps as I bubbled my way through learning about other genders.
Eventually, with the help of a genderqueer friend, I discovered a term for people like myself - genderfluidity, the state of being several genders at once and fluidly transitioning from one to another regularly. I changed my pronouns to something that felt as flexible as my idea of myself was - they/them primarily - and changed my name when the time felt right. And, very quickly, a new and brighter me - the realistic me I’ve ever met - was born, Pride of 2020, in the middle of the whole world falling apart.
And then… I shared my story on SL Facebook. It’s been a tidal wave of gender euphoria and this-feels-right-ness ever since! The outpouring of love and support that I’ve gotten from the SL community alone has made every internal struggle and every sleepless night worth it. Without this community and the lovely people in it, I’m almost certain I never would have found ME. So, really, thank all of you for being a part of that for me. I wouldn’t be here without you.
Sol, who uses she/they pronouns, is a vibrant creative individual within Second Life. As a member of the LGBTQ+ community she embraces her pansexuality. Sol has passionately been DJing at Pride at Home within SL for the past two years, eagerly anticipating their third consecutive year in spreading joy and inclusivity through the power of music.
I’ll give you some background context before I go into my coming out story. I started playing soccer at a very young age and played for about 16 years. I was super dedicated when it came to sports and watched the United States women’s national soccer team religiously. These women were my idols back then. A lot of the girls on my club soccer team also looked up to players like Megan Rapinoe, Abby Wambach, or Alex Morgan. Occasionally those players would be brought up in conversation at soccer practice, and there would be comments about their play style and their skills. However, for me it was a little more than that.
I had come across the 2012 ESPN’s Body Issue of Abby Wambach. You could see every piece of muscle on her body. I had watched some of her interviews. I noted the way she flipped her short hair to the side, and the way she smiled. She was and still is so hot. At the time I was having a full on gay crisis.
My come out story takes place at my neighborhood’s local Subway Sandwich restaurant. My dad and I were on our way home from an evening practice. While we were in line there was a random interview with Abby Wombach broadcasting on the store radio. My dad and I both bonded over watching world cups together so the two of us decided to listen and dine in. That’s when he brought up something Abby did in the last match.
I said, “Yeah, I really like her.”
My dad laughed, “I know, I do too.”
“No, I really really like her.”
I remember staring at him prolonging the awkward silence, at some point he would put two and two together. He seemed kinda confused, it was perfect. The gears were turning in his head and then I knew the exact moment it clicked. You could see it in his eyes.
“Are you coming out to me right now?”
My dad was very accepting, and my mom was more skeptical at first. I was honestly just very lucky and privileged to have the experience I had coming out. I’d later discover that gender doesn’t really matter when it comes to my sexual orientation.
Instead of coming out, I’d like to live our lives without the assumption of sexual orientation based on gender or gender based on appearance. I hope people can live peacefully and choose how they want to be identified without the triumph that may come with it.
Sylvia Olivier loves pranking the houses of friends and family and rezzing photos of Richard Simmons everywhere as well as hiding sweet potatoes and generally being mischievous.
I met her almost 30 years ago. It was 1993 and I was a junior in high school. There were a few clues in my life before I met her and before everything made sense.
My coming out story came in waves of realization. I always knew I was different and that I would be different, and I didn’t care about that. The thought of my family finding out or people treating me differently – is what I cared about at the time. I had a few gay friends, but it wasn’t until I met her that my feelings began to change.
It was in the school library just before lunch where I saw her, and I barely knew who she was, but I was there with my lit class getting ready to do a report on witchcraft. Without a word she came up to me and brought me a book I would need for my report. I was caught off guard because who was this girl and how did she know what I needed? We started talking just about school, and a friend we had in common, but I felt like I had touched electricity. Before I could help it, I remember getting hives just from the excitement I guess of meeting someone new.
It happened slowly; my feelings started to change. I knew this was someone that I needed in my life. I remember that she made me laugh, I felt alive around her and just ecstatic to be in her presence. I began dreaming of her and realizing something had woken up inside of me. She was slowly edging closer to me too. We would sit in the forest behind the factory, and I would read to her, and her head would be in my lap and then she started touching my thighs. It was an awakening for me. No one had ever touched me like that. I didn’t make much out of it because I wasn’t sure what was happening. I just knew I had to be around her.
She wrote me a letter telling me that she may be bisexual. I was not upset with this news, but I just didn’t know what to say at the time. I hid the letter in my drawer and when I came home one day, my mom and step-monster were waiting for me after I took a shower. They sat me down and handed me the letter. They told me that I was forbidden to see her, or they would tell her parents what she wrote in the letter. I didn’t want to be the reason she got into trouble. She was moving away that year and it would be harder to see her anyhow but I kind of ghosted her because I didn’t want her to get in trouble because of the letter. My heart felt torn into pieces. I remember that summer being hard. I would sit in the driveway drawing our symbols for each other her the moon and I the sun and I would draw them together as an eclipse. I knew I was falling in love.
I went away to summer camp that year for journalism. I was at one of the universities an hour away and I used the pay phone to call her. I missed her so much and she had missed me too, but she was angry with me for disappearing. My heart was still torn, and I sent her a card from the gift shop. I remember it was about missing someone and I poured my heart out to her in a letter and asked her to send her response to my friend Jim.
She responded and she missed me too, she gave me her new phone number and asked me to call her when I could. I was with my grandparents for the weekend but found a pay phone and called her. We confessed that we loved each other, and I told her how much I missed her. I just remember feeling so much love that day and relief that she still loved me too. I would send letters to her house and then my friend Jim would bring me her letters at school for the whole school year. We got to see each other a few times that year and I had my first kiss too as a senior in high school. Our story was rough but at the time we did the best we could, being queer in the 90’s had its challenges but because I was in love it didn’t matter, I’d do it again if I could.
I remember still being at the end of high school and coming out to my grandmother. I sat her down and told her that I had something serious to tell her and when I did, she was like THANK GOD, I THOUGHT YOU WERE PREGNANT! Nana loved me no matter what. The rest of my family ended up being mostly ok with it except for my mom and step-monster. I told my mom on my 18th birthday after I moved out. It was rough for a few years, but she eventually came around and left the step-monster who gave me the hardest time of anyone.
My biggest take away is that I never felt ashamed for having attraction to women – I was only worried about what the people around me would think or that they would love me less, but it never made me love myself less.
The people that really mattered never loved me less either. It was such a relief to just say it. It was something that had bubbled up inside of me for so long and when I could finally just tell people how in love I was, it was an amazing feeling to just simply live as myself.
Taylor Wassep is a Second Life photographer and writer with a uniquely stylized style all his own. Rezzing into the grid in 2008, he has found one creative outline to another. Going from aspiring model to his earlier years on the grid to now; photographer, blogger and writer.
Well, I think I was extremely fortunate to have the friends and family that I have. What will always stick with me are these vivid memories of coming out to my friends first. Two girls who were my rock and still are to this day. This memory occurred sometime in my high school years - so like 15 or 16 years old. We were hanging out on this random jungle gym in a park at night, as one does. And I remember we were sitting on this raised flooring, the crickets were chirping and one of my friends was just singing Katy Perry’s song, “I Kissed a Girl”. That is when I just blurted it out to them, “I think I’m Gay.” Instant adrenaline rushed through me as my friends turned to me and just said, “yeah?” Like it was no big deal.
After talking to them about it, they told me they would have been more shocked if I wasn’t gay. Which can be good or bad, depending on which way you want to look at it. That is vastly how my experience went with coming out to friends and family. More of a situation where they just knew already who I was before I even told them. Though we don’t make it the centerpiece of our conversations, just them knowing and accepting me is all I can ask for really. Coming out is a scary thing, no matter if someone has the most secure and safeties living environment possible. It is scary to expose something so core to who we are. That is why it is so important to allow people the space and time needed to find who they are. Then allow them the time to open up and share with whoever when they feel ready to.
Imogen Atheria has been in Second Life since 2008 and is a bit of a jack of all trades. She does “way too much” more times than not, but she truly loves every little project she starts/gets involved with, which makes all the hard work and stress worth it to help other people do what they love and see/hear them light up when they succeed.
Oh, hi. I’m Imogen. Or Imy. Usually I’d introduce a few other commonplace bits about myself here, but they’re relevant to the full story, so I’ll leave them out for now.
I’ve always had a deep respect for transgender people. I’ve always considered myself an ally. I’ve tried to be a safe person and participate in safe spaces, and I’m usually sure to begin any opinion I offer with, “This is coming from a cis female, so I acknowledge I will never fully understand...” because there ARE some things I will never fully understand about their experiences. But lately, I’ve had to think about what I’m saying.
I started seeing a new therapist recently and so I’ve had to go through that whole process of giving someone the Cliff’s Notes version of relevant details of my life and she picked up on the fact that I made it a point to identify myself as a cis female but left out my preferred pronouns. I answered that I assumed the cis female part covered that - that people would make the association, and she asked me if I feel like other peoples’ standards always have to be followed... and my brain kind of exploded.
I asked myself the same question... countless times... in the weeks following her asking me that. And I came to a conclusion.
I’ve never felt comfortable in my body not just because of its size, but because I was forcing myself into something that didn’t mentally and emotionally ‘fit’. I don’t always feel comfortable being feminine, though I do deeply enjoy it when I am comfortable or around someone I can be comfortable being feminine with. I’ve always been drawn to a more androgynous style, and most of the more feminine things I have are god awful because they’re those ‘obligatory’ kind of feminine things... flowery, lacey bullshit.
But, in relationships with women, I’m definitely the more femme leaning one of the bunch. And I love makeup on days when I want to wear it. And my nails are extensions of my self-expression. And then I realized... none of that is inherently feminine.
I’ve never really been inherently feminine. So why did I force it?
Because I’ve never felt like I should have been born a man. Therefore, if I didn’t feel like I was born in the wrong body, then I was a cis female... assigned female at birth and identifies as a female now. She/her. And it made sense for a long time. Until she asked me if other peoples’ standards always have to be followed.
I don’t think they do. And I don’t think that just because I don’t think I was meant to be born a man means that I’m automatically obligated to identify with being a woman. I think there’s an ‘in between’... a spectrum. And I’m not quite sure where I fall on that spectrum, but I don’t think it’s at either of the ends.
So, uh, hi. I’m Imogen. Or Imy. And I think I’m non-binary.
You asked for a coming out story, and instead I kinda chose to come out instead. But I’m pretty sure I was always good at not doing exactly what you wanted me to.
Caiti Baxton(they/she) is a femme-presenting genderfluid photographer and sometimes-blogger in Second Life. When they aren’t causing a little bit of havoc on social medias, she is exploring sims, listening to and supporting her friends in all of their endeavors, and finding inspiration in all things here in this virtual world.
From the time I was in 6th grade, I was thinking about boys...but also girls.
I had no idea what was going on, pre-teen and teenage hormones were starting to kick in, and I didn’t think anything of liking a pretty girl.
Other people did...my mom did.
But I thought it was just fine, and I eventually decided that that was all that mattered to me.
I was 13 years old when I came out to my mom, while my dad was stationed overseas. My mom spent the next few months taking me to therapist after therapist, doctor after doctor, convinced that something was wrong with me. It ended with a four week “vacation” to a conversion therapy camp that I still do not think much about. The traumas, darling. While navigating this turmoil, life happened. 9/11 happened. My father and mother divorced, and my siblings and I were given to him full-time. My family moved across the country and across an ocean, and my time in Europe helped me learn and discover more about myself and my sexual identity. By the time we moved back to the States and interacted with folks on this side of the Atlantic, I had grown into my identity as a pansexual woman.
Second Life helped me discover my final form. I’ve long enjoyed the fluidity of being able to present as a masculine type or more feminine that this virtual world has provided me, and I didn’t quite know that there was a term for me out in the world until I spent more time around the queer community here. I present very feminine most days, but thanks to Second Life I was able to come out a couple of years ago as genderfluid, and I am just...so content.
